


The Blue suit.

by GlowCloud



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5657512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowCloud/pseuds/GlowCloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's on his way back from another case when John tells him he's received a text, a text from beyond the grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue Suit

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own or claim to own any of the Characters from Sherlock, all rights go to Mycroft probably, oh and the BBC.
> 
> This is the first time I've really wrote anything in about 6 years, especially fanfiction, it probably sucks, probably some OOC I don't know, I'm an idiot who had a dream that might make an okayish fanfiction.
> 
> I've put it as explicit because following chapters will be, assuming enough people like this for me to add more.
> 
> I haven't proofread this, so spelling and grammar.

"Under considerable amount of stress, emotional stress to be exact, he has an annoying habit of rubbing his left wrist, a habit that's remained from a time when he would have worn a bracelet, he has a tan line over his neck which is considerably darker than the rest of his body, a tan that has spent many years being tanned over, there is no tan line over the wrist meaning the bracelet has been missing for some time but still remains something that gives him comfort, we know he's not married nor does he have children, we know this from the absent of sentiment, that is except two pictures of an elderly women inside his wallet, in one picture she's wearing a bracelet, in the other she is not, the bracelet was given to him by his grandmother and he still holds regret over having lost it, we can also tell from the picture her favourite colour is blue, blue dress, blue jewels, blue hat, the suit he was wearing that night was also blue, not something he'd picked himself, not because of the colour, because it's cheap and ill-fitting, he's more of a Tom Ford type than a supermarket rental, most likely a gift from his grandma, something he was wearing for her, a special occasion no doubt, you don't wear a suit to go shopping do you? No, the receipts given to me by his secretary showed various payments made to a party supplier which included a cake with the word 'retirement' the occasion being his grandmother's retirement...."

Lestrade nodded frantically trying desperately to keep up with Sherlock's deductions on the latest murder he'd been called into help, or in tradition take over.

"He wore the suit to her retirement to show respect, his grandmothers opinion of him matters...alot, so much so that any women he gets with must have her approval before anything serious is considered, so far she's not liked any of them, that is except one...."

"The women on the CCTV?" Lestrade butted in, the tone in his voice giving away that he believed he'd found the answer.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"No you idiot, she's the murderer, I'm talking about the secretary...don't you know anything?" He shook his head and John mouthed an apology.

"No, the secretary, we know the grandmother likes the secretary, their on first name basis, they where talking on the phone when we arrived, sorry about your loss May...? remember that conversation? Of course you don't, you weren't listening where you, I'll cut it short, I can tell you're not able to follow a word I'm saying. The women on the CCTV was his current...."

"Shag?" John piped in amused at Sherlock's expression whenever sex was mentioned.

"....Yes, anyway, she's aware of the bond between grandson and grandmother and assumes he's going to invite her to the retirement party, their's an invitation on her desk, not addressed to her, but to the Victim saying Mark +1, he doesn't...a twice divorced mother of 3, all of whom have different fathers? as if an elderly women set in her ways would approve that, no instead he invites the secretary, he doesn't tell his current....fling, he doesn't feel he needs to, fling turns up at the party wondering why he never came to pick her, she sees the victim get out of the car with the secretary, she's absolutely livid, victim spots her, we can assume from her series of divorces she's a fiery and confrontational women....victim hushes secretary to go ahead, and after an argument in which the fling is told to go home he's not interested, we see on the CCTV that she pushes the victim, he falls over and cracks open his head, she panics stuff his body into the boot of the car and then drives the 30 minute distance to the river to dump the body...case solved. It was the scorned girlfriend. easy peasy, total waste of time....seriously Lestrade what do they pay you for? A toddler could have solved this, in fact, I've solved easier cases in cluedo..."

"If that where true then wouldn't the Victim also have been the murderer?" John always brought that up if he had the chance, and the response was a roll of the eyes, Lestrade didn't answer, he'd known Sherlock to long to want to answer, it would just leave to another insult.

"I'll leave you to the paperwork, you've got to play some part in this apparent mystery" again John mouthed sorry and shrugged turning away from the police squad and following after Sherlock as he walked away.

"You where just showing off...again, half of that wasn't even important, did we really need a deduction about his bracelet?" John asked Sherlock like a father who questioning his son's bad behaviour.  
"I'm a show-off, that's what we do! and yes we did, how else would I explain the relationship between the victim and his grandmother? Bit Freudian if you ask me..." Sherlock spoke so matter-of-factly.

John just shook his head and took Sherlock's phone from his pocket handing it over to the consulting detective.  
"You got a text earlier, no known number, probably Mycroft....the only person who texts you beside me and it obviously wasn't me"  
Sherlock was still talking about the case, ignoring that John had even spoke, that was until.

"It sounds like something he'd text...you still O me....and then the flat address..."

Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks and turned sharply to snatch the phone from John, he read the text over and over all the while John questioning what the hell was going on.

"....It's a drugdealer...." Sherlocked lied.  
"A drugdealer? You're kidding me? You owe him...money? you owe drug money now! how much eh? how much Sherlock?"

"I'll sort it...."

"Damn right you will, and you'll be sorting this out on your own, I want no part of your habit, I'm not bailing you out, you got yourself into this mess" Also a lie, actually meant, Damn it Sherlock go home but if you don't call me within 20 minutes I'll assume your dead and panic, John was so easy to read.

"I'll call you....I have the cash waiting...."  
John huffed and nodded.

"I'll be in the cafe...."  
"Obviously"  
"Just go before I ring Mycroft..."  
"You will not..."  
John took the phone out of his pocket, Sherlock knew his bluff was being called, but good, it meant John believed his story.  
"I'm going..."

The two males split ways and when John was out of earshot, as if by magic, if Sherlock believed in that shite anyway, the phone began to ring and Sherlock picked up, saying nothing. He didn't need to.  
He knew who the caller was.

"hello Sherlock, and no don't do that thing that ordinary people do and tell me that I'm dead, I hate ordinary people...being dead is so boring, why would I want to be dead?"

The phone called ended and Sherlock shoved the phone back into his pocket and called down a cab.

"221B Baker Street please, take the quick route....I've got to meet an old enemy"


	2. So if you're a virgin....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moriarty does a little deducing of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter, and my internet history now has the search 'how do you describe the handjob motion' saved into it. You're welcome.

Sherlock opened the door to 221B with more excitement than caution, infact caution wasn't something that he'd even really considered, what would be the point? Moriarty had previously proved he was on par with Sherlock's level of intelligence and therefore any danger Sherlock might be in was already happening and most likely out of his control, no use in worrying over things that you couldn't control.

The staircase, though few in steps seemed to take a life time to climb and Sherlock reached his destination and opened his flat door, the empty chair sitting opposite him caused him to raise an eyebrow, oh never mind, empty recently used tea cup and the sound of boiling water.

"You don't take sugar do you? Or is that your boyfriend?...probably the boyfriend..." Moriarty called from the kitchen, his voice so casual, so calm.

Sherlock closed the door behind and took his coat off, dropping it onto the floor.  
"He's not my boyfriend....he's married, though I'm sure you already knew that didn't you?" Sherlock took a seat resting his arms on the chair arms.

Moriarty handed Sherlock his tea and kept hold of his own, walking over to the window and taking a sip as he looked out onto the roads ahead.  
"I've had this awful headache for what feels like forever, suppose you expect that when you blow out your brains, you know what I mean Sherly?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and placed his cup on a pile of books close by.  
"Sherly? Oh how original. What do you want, infact don't answer that, I already know, the real question here is why are you still ali-"

"No, no, no!" Moriarty butted in turning to look at Sherlock.  
"Don't be that person, don't be the boring 'why aren't you dead' person" The last part was spoken in a tone that made made fun of Sherlock.  
"I thought you were clever eh? can't you figure it out? Whatever, let me tell you something, you have no idea why I'm here" Moriarty took a deep breathe and moved from the window, he placed his tea next to Sherlock's but remained behind the chairs.

"I'm not here to burn you, been there, done that, soooo last four years ago, no, I got bored you see, only so much you can do when you're dead...that you must know, being dead yourself? I'm here...."  
Moriarty stood directly behind Sherlock's chair and bent down to whisper in his ear, Moriarty's warm breath causing Sherlock's heart to fasten it's pace ever so slightly.  
"I'm here 'cause I've been thinking about you and I needed the answer"

Sherlock acted like he was uninterested in the conversation despite both males knowing that wasn't true.

"What could you possibly need to know that you didn't manage to worm out of my brother?" Sherlock spoke so matter of factly.

Moriarty shrugged and stood up straight his hands resting on the top of the chair, either side of Sherlock's head.

"Well I did a little deducing Sherly, and I realised that you're so much a virgin you've never even pleasured yourself"

If it wasn't for the fact Sherlock knew how to keep his composure, he would have died right there, in this chair.

"You faked your own death, went into hiding for four years then broke into my flat to ask me if I masturbate?"  
Moriarty laughed, a childish type laugh, the laugh a school boy might have when talking to his friends about boobs.

"You've grown quite thick in my absence...."  
Moriarty placed his hands on Sherlock's shoulder and gave them a tight squeeze, his next set of words spoken in a tone Sherlock had only ever heard once before from Irene Adler.  
"I came here to show you what you've been missing"

Moriarty let his hands sliver down onto Sherlock's chest, slowly slowly, a little cautious as he half expected the other male to push him away, but he didn't. Sherlock didn't really want to, did he? He just remained in his chair, staring straight head, to curious about what was happening to speak up.

Moriarty continued, every second more of silence, the more confident he became and the more he could hear Sherlock breathe.  
One hand remained on Sherlock's chest and the other hand was on Sherlock's using it like it planchette on a Ouija board.  
Sherlock suddenly realised where this was all going and he opened his mouth to say something, but no words were spoken, he'd been distracted by Moriarty's hand leading his hand over his crotch and the sensation was not what he'd expected, it was a little more sensitive that he'd read in books or heard stories about.

"Not like you to have nothing to say Sherlock, has daddy caught your attention?" The question was rhetorical, obviously.  
The two hands continued to make their way, undoing buttons and zips and snaking their way inside and underneath underwear, grabbing hold of the erection hidden there.

"Not as big as I hoped" Moriarty teased and Sherlock grunted a reply his eyes closing as Moriarty curled their hands into a fist around the erection and began to pump up and down in a slow rhythm.  
Sherlock's breathing was hitched and although he'd had plenty of experiences, Moriarty was right, this one was new and it consumed him, every time the pace changed, every tingle of electricity, the feel of his own hand being controlled to do the dirty work.  
Moriarty breathed heavily behind him, clearly aroused himself but ignoring it to focus on what he was doing.

Sherlock remained silent, biting on his lip every time he felt the urge to moan, he didn't really need Mrs Hudson over hearing and walking in.  
Moriarty continued to make Sherlock jerk himself off and the way Sherlock's heart was racing underneath the hand Moriarty had over his chest, Moriarty could tell this was going to be over soon.  
The sound of footsteps caused Sherlock to open his eyes and look towards a clock, a rush of panic causing this....game to feel ten times better.

"You're gonna have to cum soon Sherlock, or your boyfriends going to catch you playing with yourself....how embarrassing would that be?" Moriarty gave Sherlock's cock a squeeze, the steps grew closer as John rushed up the stairs, and the closer he came, the more Sherlock needed to cum, John reached the door, pausing momentarily to talk to Mrs Hudson, asking her if Sherlock was home, the next 30 seconds where a blur of pleasure, Sherlock came into his own hand as the door began to open, Moriarty pulled his hand out and Sherlock managed to do his trousers up as John burst through.

"....WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS HE DOING HERE?" John remained in the door looking directly at Moriarty.  
"I was just leaving..." Moriarty responded, but not before he casually made Sherlock wipe the cum on his hands over the front of his clothes.  
"See you later Sherly" Moriarty straightened the front of his suit, drank the tea he'd made, which by now had gone cold and pushed past a very gobsmacked John, down the stairs and out of the building leaving a very exhilarated, flustered Sherlock to lie about what had happened.

"It wasn't really a drugdealer...."  
"Really? Really Sherlock? Like I hadn't guessed tha- did he call you Sherly?" John pouted and shook his head.  
This night was going to be a long one, Sherlock shrugged and grabbed his also cold tea, taking a sip to hide the perverse smile creeping upon his lips.

"Yes....he did"


End file.
